When He Loved Me
by Casting Moonlight
Summary: A Jazz/Prowl fic. Unit 1-A was a thing that should not have happened but did for money. This is what happens after his silent rescue and how a youngling called Jazz was his entire world... when he loved him. Rated for future safety. ON HIATUS.


**Title:** When He Loved Me  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> When Somebody Loved Me_  
><em>**Pairing/Characters: **Jazz, (canon) Unit 1-A, (canon in the future) White-Out, OC couple, and OC Throwdice  
><strong>Verse:<strong> G1  
><strong>Words:<strong> 2518  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Abuse of spark/sparklings.  
><strong>Summary: <strong>A Jazz/Prowl fic. Unit 1-A was a thing that should not have happened but did for money. This is what happens after his silent rescue and how a youngling called Jazz was his entire world... when he loved him. Rated for future chapters and safety.  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Inspired by the song '_When She Loved Me_' from the movie Toy Story 2.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I own only the plot; not the music, the singer, the movie, or Transformers.

Enjoy!

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><p>"We all know of the Friend-Drone's amazing success in all regions of Cybertron, except, ahem, our friends in the sky of course."<p>

Scattered laughter filled the auditorium where a collected audience of medics, junior Council members, scientists, and other competing manufacturers. It was an audience that White-Out joined in chuckles but his optics strayed to his boss. The speaker of this audience was in charge of a company called Domino Industries; a very, very high-tech and famous industry in the manufacturing of toys for sparklings and younglings. Domino Industries was known and trusted by the masses of Cybertron and in effect it was severely wealthy.

So, the owner and speaker was called Throwdice and he had called a meeting of those who would hopefully approve of his next idea to sell. White-Out served as Throwdice's advisor and he had been at the devious and emotionally childish mech for vorns. White-Out admitted that this new idea would revolutionize everything that the company did. Younglings would love this new toy, guaranteed. White-Out recalled Throwdice's high vocalizer in the transport, "I can practically see and hear the credits pouring into my subspace!"

It was guaranteed.

White-Out hoped that the proposal would be shot down immediately.

"We have improved the Friend-Drone extensively since it's opening sale. It now is able to drink oil to be active instead of being plugged into an outlet! It can be downloaded with game chips and other recreational activities made by Domino Industries. They are fun little playmates that are easily tucked away when you no longer need them! We they are to be relocated, all you have to do is throw a switch and their minimal memory files are wiped clean! BUT! As we all know, everything can be better than before!" Throwdice chuckled as he paused for emphasis on his proposal.

White-Out bowed his helm from where he was sitting at the bottom row of the auditorium, beginning to pray that what Throwdice said next would be refused. He would not be able to continue working at Domino Industries if it should be accepted.

"Now! We have a new friend for our precious younglings!"

White-Out looked up with a great need to suppress the liquid trying to reach his optical lenses. A plain steel box was being lowered onto the stage by a thick cable, close to where Throwdice stood at his podium. A large green button was on the top, one that Throwdice crossed over to the box to press with a loud announcement.

"Meet... FRIEND-BOT UNIT 1-A!"

The steel walls broke off to the sides and White-Out looked at the tiny thing that had been curled within the box. It was staring at them all with wide white optics. An audience that was staring back at him in detached interest.

Throwdice grabbed the tiny thing's arm and hauled him up and forward, making it stumble a bit before it righted itself with a minute shudder. It was the size of a youngling with a Praxian inspired youngling frame, the difference being it's double set doorwings. It's bright optics were staring straight forward unseeingly at nothing particular with more than a bit of fearful shock.

"Friend-bot is a new invention of mine and mine alone. I used the best metal alloys for this model! Everything is perfect! Friend-Bot is so much more than Friend-Drone could ever be! It drinks diluted energon, a mix of oil and mild grade, simple! It does not recharge but instead goes into stasis trances so it will be more attuned to a youngling's needs! It can receive actual processor installments as your youngling grows! You can even give it frame upgrades!"

White-Out felt sick to his tanks as a few bots began to clap in encouragement. He saw medics and scientists nodding, impressed with a work of art that was nothing more than a vile experiment.

It _was_ impressive. What Throwdice had done was beyond normal impressive parameters... but it was also completely and morally wrong.

White-Out had seen credits do horrible things and allow even worse.

His hope was in the processors of the Council and medics. He had encouraged Throwdice subtly for deca-cycles to include them in this possibly world-wide sell. His careful planning and hinting all came down to whether his faith in the vows of a medic and Council member were true. Their vows to preserve life and end suffering for any and all Cybertronians. Primus knew that the tiny thing shivering on stage had suffered enough.

"I know, I know. So it is a little different? A little bit more efficient? How does this make it a new line of product?" Throwdice exaggerated, throwing his free arm in the air. The other held tight to the little thing, keeping it in place. It's stoic face jolted and a muted whimper escaped the tiny thing when Throwdice's hand grabbed the sides of it's chassis piece and unlocked them swiftly.

A silence spread over the crowd as the movement was made and then the chassis parted with a mechanical hiss of depressurizing air and a flickering golden spark was exposed to far to many Cybertronians. The tiny thing seemed frozen, staring down at it's own spark in amazement.

Foreign optics stared too. Optics holding surprise, disgust, horror, and anger; a majority looked away in shame at their previous approval.

Throwdice did not seem to notice, chuckling easily as he continued to turn and display the tiny whimpering thing to the audience, "This unit will feel and experience with the youngling and make it much more than a normal toy! This damaged spark was placed into the frame because otherwise it would have faded, so of course no harm done." Throwdice held up a device from subspace and placed it on the tiny thing's helm and White-Out shuttered his optics, spark panging at what he could visualize as gasps of alarm filled the auditorium.

The device was a simple EMP. Placed on the helm of the tiny thing, fire an EMP jolt through the processor, and the tiny thing would loose all memory files collected. The amazement, fear, and simple little things he must have observed gone forever.

White-Out opened his optics and found himself staring at a newly stoic face, optics dazed and scattered with gray static.

"And he is easily wiped!" Throwdice concluded, throwing the device back in subspace. He released the tiny, unmoving and unresponsive, thing and turned his optics back to the crowd as he began, "I was thinking 200,000 credits for... each..."

As Throwdice's optics drained of color in the face of a furious crowd of mechs, White-Out made his way quickly to the stage. He jumped onto the platform and barely managed to lift the limp thing in his arms and run out of the Auditorium before the screams and litanies of curses and accusations began. The words he heard as the doors swung shut made him cringe and he was glad that he had gotten the tiny thing out of audial shot before it really got started.

Gazing down at the just now recovering thing, he smiled with warm sadness as he carried it out into the open air and toward a taxi-bot, lounging on the curb. Tapping the vibrant yellow shoulder, he said firmly, "Take me to the Polyhexian Domino toy shop please." and cradled the thing in his arms closer.

He would not allow this tiny thing any more pain or suffering. He did not know what would become of the thing if left to anyone who knew of it's _differences_.

Sitting in the taxi-bot's back seat, he recalled the confused and fearful optics that had lit up upon activation. Instead of warm arms and a loving spark to feel through it's Carrier's chassis it had strangers with cold hands prodding him painfully and being downloaded strict programming that was loosened just enough to allow processor development to go on unhindered.

The thing in his arms had suffered enough by Domino Industries hands.

White-Out had a plan laid out and it was not the best plan... it was not even a good one. Yet it was better than any other alternative. Looking down at the stasis-tranced thing, he held it close to his spark and watched it curl up closer. His determination grew. He would doom it to deactivation... and give it as much love as possible before his end.

**Five Joors Later**

Unit 1-A came out of his trance with a slow blink of it's optics. As it's systems came out of stasis-hibernation, it began to hear small noises along with familiar sound tones that marked someone talking. It's optical feeds came around next and it found himself staring at the dull reflected light on gray metal walls of a box. A box it was in.

A small rap on the outside of the box made Unit 1-A flinch backwards into the back of the box. A lilting voice, sounding reproachful voice came and the rapping stopped. As it's audials cleared it heard the muffled, but still distinguishable voices outside of it's box.

"I can't believe how early this shipment came in."

"That white mech said it was a special delivery unit. He even offered it to us for a cut off on the price. Gotta wonder what's so different about it."

A small scraping on the box's outer shell and the voices continued, "Hmm... this datapad he gave us just describes some maintenance changes. It... looks like it's taking care of a real second youngling."

"Hey. What's that scrawled on the bottom..."

"..."

"..."

"Do not treat recklessly, this Friend-Drone is special. Please take care of it."

"... Wow. What did we buy?"

"I don't know."

"Carrier! Carrier! Can I open it now?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, of course you can sweetling."

"Darling..."

"It should be fine. What's the worst that could happen? He was asking us to _take care_ of it. Not _be careful_ with it. Go on, sweetling."

Unit 1-A curled up as the box's walls began to hiss and fall to the side and then it's entire world was filled with bright light and color. Unit 1-A stifled a shocked squeal and instead gasped softly, covering it's optics with it's hands as they tried to adjust to the light.

"Oh, isn't he just adorable!" That lilting tone from before came and the deeper voice chuckled out an agreement. The sounds were soothing for some reason and Unit 1-A looked up hesitantly, instantly relieved that it could look around without too much painful feedback. Blinking owlishly, it considered the statement from the lilting one. He? It was a he?

Unit 1-A nodded in agreement to the statement and it... he found a violet and black mech sitting on a big soft looking thing. Another mech, this one white and dark azure, was leaning on the back of the big soft looking thing. Then there was the third occupant of the room. A youngling painted black and white with a brilliantly blue visor gazing at him brightly and a large smile plastered underneath.

Unit 1-A cocked his head and considered the youngling with rapt awe. His programming, was telling him that this youngling was important but not why. Unit 1-A struggled internally with the problem and felt something hot beginning to form in his processor and he-

"Wha' yer designation?"

The struggle slowed and Unit 1-A looked up and opened his mouth wordlessly, reacting to the question he didn't have an answer too yet via programming encouragement but something deeper in his spark that called for the attention desperately. Something that was shouting _LOVE ME_.

Whatever that meant...

"His box said Unit 1-A, sweetling." The lilting one, the violet and black one, said from the couch.

The youngling before him scrunched up his face and then said firmly, "Tha's not a designation! Wha's yer designation?"

Unit 1-A stared wordlessly at the youngling and then slowly shrugged his shoulders and said hesitantly, "I... I don't know."

When the youngling looked shocked, Unit 1-A thought he had said the wrong thing and it made him feel really, really bad somewhere in his middle frame. He curled up his legs and ducked his head about to apologize when a warm, heavy weight knocked into him.

Looking up, he found himself locked in an embrace from the youngling and his blue visor was staring deeply into his with something that made Unit 1-A's chassis... flutter inside.

"Don' be sad! Ev'yone gets a designation! I'll give ya one, kay?" The youngling said excitedly. Unit 1-A could do nothing more than nod in mute surprise, feeling his hands curl around the youngling's arms with no intent other than to hold onto the warm frame.

The youngling grinned then, and declared loudly, "I got it! Ya designation will be... Prowl! 'Cause yer so quiet! Mah Carrier says mah Creator prowls a lot at nigh' ta sneak energon goodies! He's realeh funny! Sometimes he gets meh some too!"

Unit-... Prowl stared down at the youngling with all his attention, soaking up every word directed to him. He focused on the smile that lit up the youngling's entire face and then slowly felt his own mouth form an upward curve. Then the youngling was quiet and Prowl's curve disappeared, hoping he hadn't made this youngling angry or upset by his action. No... no the youngling still looked happy.

"Come on, Prowl! Smile again! It's kay!" The youngling said encouragingly.

Prowl hesitated, but smiled again. Weakly but he still smiled... for the youngling.

The youngling smiled more brightly and nuzzled into his neck, "'M designation is Jazz... ya and meh are gonna be the best friends evah! I love ya Prowl! Ain't never gonna leave ya!

Prowl's optics widened and he felt a stronger smile form without his meaning too. Curling his arms around Jazz's shoulders, he said in soft awe, "I love you too, Jazz."

And that moment, Jazz became the center of Prowl's world. The first one to love him, to give him a designation. Prowl's fingers tightened on Jazz's shoulder plating and he curled up against Jazz with a low sound of contentment. For that moment, he was so very, very happy.

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><p>Please review?<p> 


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